


This Ingénue

by dashakay



Category: The X-Files RPF
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-24
Updated: 2015-08-24
Packaged: 2018-04-17 00:55:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4646352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dashakay/pseuds/dashakay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One quirk of that pouty mouth of his and she’s mesmerized, covertly following his every move with her eyes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Ingénue

He’s condescending that first week, asking her if she needs help running lines, does she know where her marks are? He’s, like, thirtysomething, and she’s only twenty-four and she clearly knows  _nothing_. He’s here to help her. Don’t you ever forget, he’s been on  _Twin Peaks_  and in a movie with Brad Pitt and went to Harvard or something, so he’s for sure hot shit.

It becomes rather a challenge for her to fight the urge to roll her eyes when he gets into some reverie about the sublime nature of sharing a scene with Kyle MacLachlan. She may be inexperienced but she’s a good actor. She’s memorized her lines cold, thankyouverymuch, and it doesn’t take an Ivy League genius to find her marks. Lacking confidence in her ability to do this job isn’t going to be an issue for her. She knows who she is and what she’s able to do.

I’m young, she thinks, staring at herself in the mirror in the white glare of her hotel bathroom. I’m young and kind of green but I can do this and do it well. Her reflection smiles back at her.

She already knows his reputation, gleaned from the makeup artist, the hairdresser, and more grips than she can count. He’s a hound dog—handsome, charming, and constantly panting for more. He even has the big, sad, puppy dog hazel eyes, which he trains on her when he thinks she isn’t looking.

Of course she’s looking. Is there a woman alive on this very planet who wouldn’t look at him? One quirk of that pouty mouth of his and she’s mesmerized, covertly following his every move with her eyes.

She sits down on the edge of the bed. She’s not going to call him, one floor up in the hotel. Of course she’s going to be a good girl. She’ll review the pages for tomorrow one last time, brush her teeth, take her vitamins, and be fast asleep by a moderately decent hour. This is her first big job and she’ll remain professional.

Her phone rings, shrilling on the bedside table and startling her out of her reverie.

His voice is scratchy. “Are you sure you don’t want to run lines for tomorrow?”

She hears her own voice climb half an octave, become unnaturally high and girlish. “Well, I  _could_  use some help finding my motivation for the motel scene…”

His responding chuckle could probably get him arrested in half the United States and a few Canadian provinces.

Hanging up the phone, she smiles, a sly, private smile. 

He thinks he knows what he’s going to get, his sweet ingénue co-star, untouched and shy and awed by his mere presence. He’ll be able to show her a thing or two—his big Hollywood moves.

Little does he know. She’ll show him.

Yes, she’ll show him a thing or two.


End file.
